His voice was like the whisper of wind against her ear, soft and hardly there. But the words brought with them a storm as did the breeze from the ocean. Lottie tightened her grip, her mind, ever eager to indulge in creativity, tried to grasp what it would be like to not only to have Lycoris die but to see it happen. She could feel the sorrow soul deep already just at the thought and a tear trickled down her cheek and in to Alvin's hair as she rested her head on his own.

But then the wind blew fiercer, the storm cluttered her mind and she felt as if her soul itself would break with Alvin's pain, with his tears. Lottie shifted, her fingers tilting up his face and wiping the tears from his face as they fell, her own companion tears leaking unnoticed down her cheeks. "Some are born to sweet delight. Some are born to endless night." She mused, William Blake's words hardly above a whisper. Her sweet Alvin had been through so much, his own endless night seemed ceaseless these days and yet all she wished for him was sweet delight.

She leaned her forehead on his own, her hands gentle on both his own, feeling the scars fate had been so cruel to give him. "It plays again and again, an endless haunting." Her own words vines of her thoughts. Then I'm the barest whisper, "I am here now." She would support him, hold him through this nightmare. Find some sweet delight of her own soul and wrap him in it.